


We're heading for something

by nanasekei



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: “Stand back,” Steve says, and his voice shakes more than he’d like to. He takes a few steps back, still shielding Dustin, who, for once, doesn’t protest it. “Who are you?”Behind him, Dustin asks the way more pressing question: “Where are we?”





	We're heading for something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



> Thanks to Sheron for the beta. Sholio, I hope you like it! :)

Steve’s life can’t get any weirder.

By now, he’s used to it. Between demogorgons and a super powered girl and an evil dimension, Steve has resigned himself to the fact that weird, bizarre things need to happen somewhere in the world, and, apparently, his neighborhood is the chosen spot.

So, as soon as he woke up in the morning and saw the sky pitch black at fucking seven a.m., he knew.

He was already late for his shift at Scoops Ahoy, but he didn’t even bother putting on his uniform. Instead, he picked up his nailbat (he wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of needs it around to sleep these days), went to his car and drove straight to the Henderson’s. He knew he’d find Dustin sneaking out on his bike, and he stopped and honked hard enough to wake up the entire neighborhood to call his attention.

To his credit, Dustin immediately ran towards him, forgetting his bike in the front yard and yanking on the door of Steve’s car as if it wasn’t already obviously unlocked. When Steve opened it for him, with a hurried “Get in, man”, he just rolled his eyes, getting inside, and bent his legs while Steve pushed back the seat a little for him (the dipshit had been growing like crazy those past months – soon he’d be Steve’s height, and when the hell had _that_ happened?).

Steve, like an idiot, asked him what was going on. Which was a stupid fucking question, because _none_ of them fully knew what was going on, ever, but Dustin always had his theories. He quickly started on a ramble about portals opening and something related to a vortex while Steve broke all speed laws on their way to the Wheeler’s.

They were already seeing the house at the end of street when the sky opened.

Steve can’t fully describe what happened. He remembers Dustin seeing something through the window and frantically grabbing his arm; remembers saying _What the hell, man, I’m driving!_ ; remembers the bizarre sensation of his car stopping and being pulled up by a force he couldn’t see; and then everything going dark.

He blinks his eyes open with difficulty, coughing as he starts to come to his senses . He vaguely registers car noises and lights coming from the window, but he can’t deal with it right now.

Instead, he focuses on figuring out his position. He’s laying down on the car seat, part of his body hanging outside. Whatever it was, the door didn’t make through it.

His first thought is, _shit,_ and his second thought is, _shit, Dustin!_ So, nothing very original, really.

He moves his hand around, searching for some sign of Dustin, way before his vision starts focusing again.

“Dustin?” is his first groan, rough as if he’s slept for a week. “Where are you?”

“Right here,” Dustin’s voice comes from the back seat. Steve’s hand reaches out, not finding the front seat where it should be. Shit, the car is wrecked. His dad is gonna kill him.

Dustin’s hand reaches over and grabs his shoulder. Steve holds onto his arm because it’s a little calming. Ok, ok, so Dustin is in one piece. Now onto the next step.

“Where’s my bat?”

He hears a sound of Dustin fumbling with something metallic in the back seat. He opens his mouth to tell him to stop, because he’s gonna hurt himself, but then he feels the familiar, comforting feel of the wooden bat in his hand.

“There,” Dustin says, curling Steve's fingers around the handle . His voice is a little uncertain. “Uh, it kinda—It kinda broke a little.” The bat is almost completely broken in half, the top half barely hanging on by a fine shred of wood.

Steve shuts his eyes and sighs. Of course. Of fucking course.

He still tightens his hand around it. Half a weapon still beats no weapon at all.

“Where are we?” he finally asks, his vision focused enough to look outside, sitting up and stepping out.

He knows what he expects to see – the dark, disgusting tunnels are impossible to forget—so it’s a shock when blinding sunlight reaches his eyes, along with so much _noise._ It’s so colorful and bright and wait, it can’t be—

“I think we’re in New York.”

Dustin doesn’t sound nearly as shocked by this development as he should be.

“We’re in— _What?_ ” Steve stammers, turning his head around. There are so many cars, and so many buildings, but what catches his eyes are the billboards, huge and colorful and – what the _actual_ fuck – _moving._ He blinks, finally focusing on the noise, which is a bunch of honks and screams and something that sounds like a dozen of roaring trucks.

“There.” Dustin jumps out of the car and next to him, pointing to something in the distance, and Steve looks, and, okay, there she is, Lady Liberty herself. Dustin also looks around. “I think we’re in the middle of a street.”

“What?” Steve repeats, his head pounding, because while, yeah, he guess Dustin has a point, what with the tons of cars around them, but—but that’s a fucking huge street, and what the hell is up with those _billboards,_ and, and—Is that music? There’s something playing in the distance that definitely _sounds_ like music, but it doesn’t seem like anything Steve recognizes. “How—“

“Oh, boy,” a voice says behind him.

Steve turns around immediately, raising his broken bat in front of him like a sword. His arm reaches back to pull Dustin behind him in instinct, and, holy shit.

It’s a robot.

A, a fucking _robot,_ red and gold and _floating,_ right there in front of Steve, apparently in the middle of New York.

“What the fuck,” Steve hisses, to no one in particular. He’s just barely gotten used to all the Stephen King shit going on where he lives, and now he’s apparently thrown in the Terminator. What even is his life.

The robot doesn’t seem to care, raising his hand and waving as a greeting. “Hey. No offense, but that’s not gonna really give you much leverage against me.” He gestures towards Steve’s  half-bat, and Steve flinches, putting a second hand on the goddamn thing and tightening his fingers around the handle on reflex. “Hey, no, don’t worry—I meant it in a purely hypothetical level, you’re not gonna need to…”

“Stand back,” Steve says, and his voice shakes more than he’d like to. He takes a few steps back, still shielding Dustin, who, for once, doesn’t protest it. “Who are you?”

Behind him, Dustin asks the way more pressing question: “Where are we?”

The robot tilts its head at them. It looks like it’s thinking. “Hm, well, that’s a good question, you see, you actually got it right—this is New York, but, uh, how do I put it? Hm, let’s just say maybe the best question is – _when_ are you?”

“What?” Steve says.

“When are we?” Dustin immediately says, and something in his voice tells Steve he’s dying to step forward and touch the goddamn robot. Jesus.

“Yeah, exactly. You’re a little—out of your time, I think, though I’m not sure how much. Uh.” The robot spreads its arms. “Welcome to 2018.”

Steve blinks.

“We’re—What? _What_?”

“Ok, Cap, gonna really need you here in a moment,” the robot says, apparently not to them, though Steve doesn’t know who else he’d be talking to. “Well, you see, time, it’s—it’s like a straight line.”

“A _what?”_

“You know, like, a straight line? Yeah, ideally, it’s—it’s like that, but then, uh, someone dropped a bunch of ink all over it, and the line got stained. And some parts of the line, they got a little wobbly, a little unstable, and, and then, well, you dropped out of the sky.”

Steve’s mouth gapes open, but no sound comes of it.

“Time travel,” Dustin says suddenly, and the robot nods enthusiastically. “Because of, uh, something wrong with the fabric of the universe?”

“Yes, _exactly –_ very good, kid; and we’re trying to fix it, but we still don’t know if—Oh, thank God,” the robot says, looking at something behind them. “Here, I think someone else is gonna be able to walk you through it.”

Steve turns around.

And stops.

“Holy shit,” he says. He’s pretty sure Dustin, behind him, echoes the feeling.

“Language,” the robot says.

Right in front of Steve stands a guy he’s only seen in comic books, movies and old photographs. A guy that he knows mostly from his grandpa’s war stories, and that, oh yeah, happens to be the reason both Steve and his father have this name.

“Hi,” Captain America says, in a different uniform Steve remembers from the pictures, but still with the exact same stern face Steve saw in a poster on his father’s childhood bedroom wall. He extends his hand. “I’m Steve.”

“Hi,” Dustin says, taking a step forward and shaking his hand. He points back with his thumb. “He’s also Steve.”

Captain America smiles and turns towards him. “Oh. Nice to meet you, Steve.”

Dustin grins, clearly amused by Steve’s shock, so Steve forces himself to get out of his trance. He takes a step forward and shakes Captain America’s hand.

It’s kind of awesome.

“Don’t worry,” Captain America says, blue eyes serious and sincere staring at him. “We’re already working on a way to send you back. Everything will be all right.”

Then, behind him, there’s a loud noise, way too similar to an explosion for Steve’s liking. The robot swears, flying away. Captain America rubs the back of his neck.

“We’re, uh. We’re kind of dealing with something at the moment. The… the things that might have caused what brought you here, in fact.”

From his expression, Steve guessed those were some dangerous things.

“What things? Like monsters?” Dustin asks, voice slightly scared. Then, clearly, composing himself, he straightens his posture. “We know everything about fighting monsters.”

Captain America tilts his head, almost as if he’s confused by how sincere Dustin seems. He looks at Steve’s face in search of confirmation.

Steve shrugs and nods.

Life, apparently, can still get a hell of a lot weirder.

(And that’s even before Steve meets the talking tree.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos warm my heart.


End file.
